


Dynamics

by lindblumese



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: (also there are definitely some post-game ideas of mine laced throughout this), (yet there's nothing obvious or outlandish enough to affect your reading experience), F/M, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, underlying angst sort of i guess (but not out of canon REALLY SO)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindblumese/pseuds/lindblumese
Summary: Things have changed between then and now, but deep down they're not that different-- especially when it comes to them.





	

She can’t help but smile at the sight of him, and the way he looks so small, drowning in the plush of linen and being kept afloat by the buoyant pillows under each arm. Quietly, she slips out of her shoes and pads across the marble floor, coming to the edge of the bed and carefully sitting beside him. There’s an urge to brush the hair out of his eyes. She leans forward to do just that, now able to see some of his finer details— the sun-kissed colour of his cheeks, the blond ends of his fanning eyelashes, the pleasant way the tip of his nose upturns, the gentle plump to his upper lip.

She’s been catching herself doing that more often lately, taking more of him in. The intricacies she can search for when she gazes at him. Watches him. They’re what she wants to ingrain into her memory, building up her image of him so that one day she can remember him entirely and completely just by closing her eyes; how he twirls objects between his fingers when in thought, and how whenever he quirks only one brow, it’s always his left. Or if he needs to be distracted, coaxing him into telling a story does the trick. How one leg takes more weight when he walks, yet when he runs it’s as though neither touches the ground. Things as miniscule as a faint scar on the back of a hand, a stray fleck of yellow in the blue of an iris, or an ear piercing that’s the slightest touch higher than the other.

Her fingers continue to comb through his hair, which has grown considerably during his time away and is glowing golden in the afternoon light filtering in through the window.

Completely distracted by all of him, she doesn’t notice the furred appendage wrap around her wrist before it’s too late and it’s pulled her down sharply. Garnet squeaks and just misses flattening his face with her free palm when it lands beside his head. Her body falls on top of his.

“T’think I once said you had the skills to be a thief,” Zidane slurs, a devious grin sliding onto his face. One cobalt eye cracks open. “Enjoying the show?”

Garnet absolutely blushes and tries to push herself away, both furious and embarrassed at once. With all her might, she makes an attempt at peeling his tail off, but it’s steeled in place and too strong and stubborn for her lean fingers.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” she huffs, though unable to wipe the smile from her lips. “Teasing me again, like you used to.”

“You’re just outta touch,” he quips, tilting his head cheekily. “You know, you used to be a lot more tactful with your flirting.”

That, Garnet laughs at. “Says _you_ to me.”  

He snickers in response before deciding to uncoil his tail, granting her freedom from his hold. Not that she notices, however, instead busying herself with shifting the brunt of her weight to her forearms instead of on his chest. When the queen makes no effort to move away, he takes advantage of the proximity and reaches up for a strand of her hair. He weaves it around the tips of his fingers as his eyes are trained on her face.

Satisfied with her balance, Garnet looks to him, frozen as she’s caught by his striking gaze.

The silence that fills the room isn’t awkward, but is heavy in an indescribable way. Time ticks by but cannot be discerned, the pair breathing in and out and their heartbeats pulsing in rhythm through their touching bodies.

Neither of them wants to speak, yet both wait for the other to say something first.

The delicate moment is disrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the muffled voice of the general through the thick wood.

“Oh, yes! I’m coming!” she calls, quickly lifting herself and pretending not to hear Zidane’s sigh as she smooths her gown. With newfound purpose, she moves toward her vanity dresser. “I was supposed to only come in to grab a necklace and then—”

“You got distracted by  _staring_ at me?”

“—meet Beatrix at the great hall,” she finishes, undeterred by the recognisable mischievous tone in his voice. The piece of jewellery she searches for is found in velvet casing; a golden choker, metal curled and delicate and adorned with scattered sapphires. The bed-frame creaks as Zidane bounces off the bed to cross the room in long strides. He gently pulls the necklace from her grasp, motioning for her to turn around, and she brushes her hair over her shoulder.

“I’m having dinner with some of our nobles. There’s no occasion— _ah_ , thank you. I’m just showing my face outside of royal duty, really.” Feeling his hands move away from her neck, she turns to face him. “Would you like to join us?”

“Naw, I’m good,” he answers immediately, too fast. He cocks a thumb over his shoulder without any real direction. “I’ll just loiter ‘round the kitchen and bother Quina ‘til they get fed up with me and slip me some food.”

Garnet hums acceptingly. Zidane hasn’t exactly received the warmest of welcomes from the nobles, despite his likeable charisma and spirit (or even his renowned status as one of Gaia’s saviours). Regardless, despite his very short time at the castle, she has already easily gathered that he isn’t particularly interested in the politics of the court, especially the Alexandrian nobles, not unless it concerns the queen and the queen alone.

With that in mind, she says, “Hopefully I won’t be too long.”

“Alright. I’ll wait up for you.”

The thought brings a heat to her cheeks. “A-Alright.”

It’s a fragile process, she thinks, to remember how to love someone. Even more so to learn. They were still figuring out how to make it work between them; their dynamic together, the balance of their stations. Things weren’t the same as they had been while on their journey and they weren’t the same people. She knew she didn’t have the same luxuries as she did two years ago.

It’d been a flurry of emotions, wild and unpredictable, and burying themselves with each other. It was fast and slow all at once, and almost always erratic. Terrifying in the way she could find herself overcome by him, how it seemed her entire being devoted itself to just the thought of him.

There was still much unspoken and plenty unturned. Her heart still ached at times, not used to the ecstasy of having Zidane tangible, and still making habit of his existence being a memory, a shadow in the corner of every room, a dream, a figment. Remembering him while also trying to forget him had taken its toll on her for years, and even with his return it was not something easily forgotten.

Time strengthened Garnet as a monarch. She knows time will do the same for them.

“Dagger?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna stop until you leave,” he laughs, gesturing to the door with a tilt of his head. The sound of knocking continues to echo loudly throughout the room.

She realises she had been standing there, staring at him again.

“Right, yes,” she quickly agrees, rushing toward the door and sliding her feet back into her shoes. With one hand on the brass knob, Garnet allows herself a final glance at him.

Zidane is still watching her, fingers toying with the tongue of his belt. When their eyes meet, a small smile plays on his lips. She returns it, feeling a flutter in her stomach.


End file.
